Meet Market

The meet markets are packed with hopeful humans;

Crowded cantinas serving social lubrication.

Everybody’s looking; nobody’s found.

And so it becomes a permanent occupation.

Perpetual patrons converse;

Debates, discussions, mostly the mundane.

Eager optimists try to join in

And take intoxicants to drown the pain.

Meet markets really are terrible places

If you’re looking for a real person to meet.

An empty quest to satisfy the flesh,

But here I am again in my favorite seat.

(Refrain)

Who will I meet tonight?

Who will I seek tonight?

Will it be real?

Or just another meal?